


Could We Fix You If You Broke

by the_genderman



Series: My 2020 MCU Kink Bingo Fics [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: American Sign Language, Autistic Steve Rogers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shower Sex, Showers, Slice of Life, Temporary Muteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Sometimes Steve has bad days. Sometimes he can get over them by himself, sometimes they’re just a little too much for him to handle on his own. Luckily, he’s not alone. SamSteve hurt/comfort slice of life, focusing on the comfort and a nice warm shower.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: My 2020 MCU Kink Bingo Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608199
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	Could We Fix You If You Broke

**Author's Note:**

> 2020 MCU Kink Bingo square N-3: Free Square – Shower Sex.  
> Title is a lyric from Lady Gaga – “Speechless.” Autistic Steve written by an autistic author, not meant to represent every person on the spectrum. Setting is probably somewhere between CA:TWS and A:AoU.

The sound of the front door opening perks Sam up, bringing him out of his half doze. It was late, but he’d wanted to stay up, wait up for Steve when he got home. The sound of Steve’s shoes in the hall makes him pause, fingers frozen between pages in the book he’d been reading before he closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to rest them a little. He listens. A shoe hits the floor. The second follows, lingering just a hair too long. Sam sighs to himself, finds an actual bookmark, and lays his book on the side table. It’s been a bad day. Bad enough that Steve got called back in this late for an emergency meeting. Bad enough to worm its way into Steve’s brain. Sam rises to his feet, ready to meet Steve as he rounds the corner to their sitting room.

And then, there he is. Steve’s civilian clothes are a little rumpled, the shirt not quite tucked all the way in. He’d cleaned himself up, but his mind was elsewhere, recounting, reliving whatever he’d just been through. He’s usually so precise with his clothes. He smiles distractedly at Sam as he crosses the threshold. Sam smiles back at him, warm and open and urging him to speak. Steve’s offered him a willing ear often enough, told him that if he needs to talk, he’ll be there; Sam hopes Steve will realize he can share his own worries, too. He doesn’t like having to pry Steve apart, to open him up and wash him out and make sure that these deep, hidden emotional wounds get enough air so they don’t fester. Steve’s bones will knit, his muscles will heal, his bruises will fade, but the serum can’t touch his mind. 

Or maybe it can, maybe it does. Everything’s been amplified, the body and the mind, the good and the bad. Maybe that’s why Steve says his bad days feel miles deep, frozen, the weight of the ocean pushing down on him. Sam’s only too familiar with how his own bad days can feel, and it makes him ache to see Steve like this. Since the day they met, they’ve both been there for each other. They’ll get through this together, too.

A few minutes later, Sam hears the too-fast thump of fists against leather. Dropping back down onto the couch, he closes his eyes and leans back. Preparing himself. He’ll give Steve enough time to work out the worst of his frustration on the punching bag, but he’ll have to do _something_ before too much longer.

\-----

When Sam enters their bedroom, he finds Steve hunched over on the edge of the bed, massaging his knuckles. He’s still breathing a little heavy, his hair sticking up in sweat-damp spikes. He looks up as Sam approaches, eyes just a little glassy, a little unfocused. Sam watches a bead of sweat trickle slowly down his temple.

“Steve?” Sam asks softly, so softly, as he lifts his fingers to Steve’s chin, telegraphing his movements. He gently tilts Steve’s face up, just a little. He needs to check on Steve, but he doesn’t want to force eye contact on him. Doesn’t know if it’s become a no-touching kind of day, doesn’t know if Steve’s got any words left or if he exhausted them all at work. Doesn’t want to make things worse. He doesn’t like seeing what work does to Steve on days like this where he pushes himself past his breaking points to try to right the wrongs in the world, but he can’t ask Steve to stop. He knows Steve can’t stop, not when there’s so much still to be done. He knows that if their places were reversed, he’d be doing the exact same thing. All they can do is be there for each other.

Steve’s eyes dart down and away, his lips tightening, body language prickly and uncertain. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to close himself off and keep his anger, his sadness, all of his tangle of emotions inside him, sleep on them and let them slowly bleed out on their own time. Then his eyes close, his whole body sags, releasing the tension it had held. He leans forward and presses his cheek to Sam’s wrist.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sam murmurs, curling his fingers under Steve’s chin. “Come on, stand up for me, let me take care of you. I know you’re tired I know you’re not feeling yourself right now, but you can’t spend the rest of the night stewing like this. It’s not good for you.”

Steve gives a questioning sound but says nothing. Sam waits. Steve pulls away from Sam’s hand. He tips his head back, eyes on the ceiling, mouth slightly open, lips forming silent words. Sam watches Steve’s Adam’s apple bob, watches him swallow angrily as he tries to make his tongue obey him.

“Stew in what, sweat or feelings?” Steve signs after a few moments, finding it easier to speak through his hands than his mouth.

“Both, you goose,” Sam says, a laugh escaping. He catches himself, dropping back to the calm, quiet, gentle authority he knows Steve needs in times like this. “Both, sweetheart. Now how about you stand up for me, get your sweaty workout clothes off, and wait for me in the bathroom? I’m gonna get you cleaned up real nice for bed, take all your worries away.”

“That sounds… nice,” Steve smiles, his hands echoing ‘nice’ a few more times. He rises to his feet and begins to strip down methodically.

“See? And that’s how I know you need it—you’re not arguing with me,” Sam laughs again and turns away so Steve won’t see the grin on his face. “Now go on, I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”

Undressing quickly and without pretense, Sam folds his clothes haphazardly and tosses them onto the corner of the bed, to be dealt with later. He walks to their closet and pauses, his hand on the collar of a bathrobe. He runs his fingers down the plush lapel, feeling the softness of the fabric, thinking. It’s late, they’re both tired. They probably should go to bed right after this, but Steve deserves a little bit of mundane comfort, lounging around and doing a whole lot of nothing but enjoying each other’s company. Their job gives both of them, but especially Steve, so few opportunities to be soft. Sam slips their robes off of their hangers.

The bathroom is already warm and bright when Sam strides through the door. Steve is waiting next to the shower, hands folded primly just below his navel. Sam hangs their robes up and gives Steve a smirk. 

“Alright, not much longer now, sweetheart,” Sam says as he slides the shower door open and steps into the huge, pristine space, all gleaming chrome and tile. Far fancier than either of them had ever dreamed of growing up, but they deserve it. Some days—like this one—they _need_ it. He tweaks the knobs until the water reaches the perfect temperature, perfect pressure. He steps back and beckons to Steve.

Steve steps forward and extends a hand into the spray, turning it over and letting the water run down his fingers. Having assured himself that it’s comfortable for him, too, he steps in and slides the glass door shut behind him. He turns his back to the showerhead, closes his eyes, and tips his head into the water. His lips part and Sam watches him thaw, his whole body relaxing in the heat. Steam rises, the warm water runs through his hair, down his shoulders, down his back, down his body. Steve sighs contentedly.

“Ready?” Sam asks.

Steve nods. Without opening his eyes, he reaches down, finds the shampoo bottle, and holds it out to Sam.

Sam takes the bottle. He squeezes some into his hands and lathers it up slowly, taking time to enjoy the scent. It’s pleasant, subtle and green, inviting but not overpowering. He steps back to make room and Steve follows him without a word.

“That’s right, come on over here,” Sam says, raising his hands. Steve sighs in content anticipation and bows his head. Sam reaches up and begins rubbing the shampoo into Steve’s hair, fingers making little circles. “Does that feel good?”

“Mm,” Steve replies, nodding a little. He lifts one hand and places it on Sam’s, linking their fingers together. He might not always have the words, but he knows how to let Sam know how much he means to him.

Sam understands. 

Their hands and bodies move in tandem. Lather and rinse. Sam’s hands drop away reluctantly and Steve tips his head gently back into the spray. The water runs down his neck and he hums again as his hair is rinsed clean, a calm smile on his lips. The smile spreads up to the corners of his eyes and they blink open, warm and bright as he looks at Sam. His gaze lingers over his shoulder as he turns to find the washcloth and soap, shakes the water out of his hair, and turns back to Sam. He folds their hands together like a prayer.

They lather the washcloth hand in hand, then Sam beckons Steve out of the water again. Slow strokes, a soapy glide, strong, gentle hands moving over his body. Steve’s eyes close again, his lips part. A shivering sigh escapes him. He signs a question, hands close against his chest to keep them out of Sam’s way.

Sam pauses in his ministrations, hands on one of Steve’s thighs. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, could you say it again?”

Steve nods and repeats his words. “I wanna jerk us both off, may I?”

Sam hums and stands up, letting Steve know he’s considering the offer. When he suggested they shower together, he’d only been thinking about getting Steve cleaned up and wound down, to try to help him relax. Sex hadn’t crossed his mind; he’s tired, but it’s not an unwelcome suggestion. He straightens his back. When he looks up, he’s surprised to see Steve looking him right in the face. Well, right in the middle of one of his cheeks; even on good days, Steve rarely makes direct eye contact.

Steve signs again. “It’s ok if you don’t want to, I know it’s late, I just…” a pause, a twitching of his fingers as he searches for the right words. “When you touch me, it feels like everything’s going to be ok, that nothing could be wrong in that moment. Even if I feel like I’m falling apart, you always find my pieces and put them back together with just your touch. I only want to be as good to you as you’ve been to me.”

Sam smiles and dips his head, cheeks warm. “Steve, sweetheart, I know you say you’re not good with words, but I think you’re better at it than you give yourself credit for. And if you want this, I want it too, but you don’t have to ‘make up for’ things like this; I’m not keeping score. You’ve always been good to me.” He reaches up and gently touches Steve’s cheek.

Steve nods, takes Sam’s hand in his, and kisses his knuckles. A smile and a quirk of his eyebrows, and then Steve’s wrapping his other arm around Sam’s back, pulling him into a close embrace, swaying gently. Another kiss to his hand, then his cheek, his lips. Their bodies press together and Steve’s hand drops lower, sliding between them. Sam links his hands across the small of Steve’s back and he sways along with him. Steve kisses him again and then he’s catching their cocks in his hand, bringing them together. He begins to stroke, an easy rhythm.

It’s not long before Steve’s hard and Sam’s not far behind. They kiss slow and lazy. The water runs over them as they move together. Steve hums, low and throaty, a pleased sound, as he continues to stroke. Sam’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavier, Steve’s lips against his neck now. The water is warm, the air is warm, Steve’s body is warm. This moment is warm, rising to hot, with Steve’s hands on him. He could live in it. 

Sam comes with a sigh, emphatic, soft, and warm. Steve kisses him again and brings himself over. They stand in the spray, catching their breath and coming back down.

Steve waits until Sam’s eyes open again before asking “Good?”

“Yeah, definitely good,” Sam says. He leans in to give Steve another quick kiss and smooths back his hair. “Now how about we get out, get dried off, and go cuddle until we fall asleep? I know your bathrobe isn’t proper pajamas, but I think you deserve something _extra_ soft tonight.”

“I think… I think I’d like that,” Steve replies. 

Steve nods, smiles, and reaches behind him to quickly twist the knob to shut off the water. He watches Sam out of the corners of his eyes, a soft little smile lingering on his lips, as he slides the shower door open. He gives one foot a little shake as he steps out of the shower and in the same motion, grabs his and Sam’s towels.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Sam says with a nod as he takes the towel from Steve. He’s getting tired again, but it’s soft little domestic moments like these that he likes to savor. Sure, the heart-racing adventure’s great, the whole saving-the-world deal has been worth it, but waking up to breakfast in bed after a rough night? Introducing Steve to his favorite movies? Steve teaching him how to knit? Even for a couple adrenaline junkies, it can be real nice just to be soft together for a bit. He slips into his own robe as he watches Steve towel off his hair just enough to sleep on.

Sam unhooks Steve’s robe and holds it up, open and ready. Steve’s mouth quirks into a wider smile and he nods a thanks as he lets Sam slip the rope onto his arms, over his shoulders, and wrap it around him. Steve waits until Sam’s gotten the belt tied into a little bow before lifting his hand to his chest and signing “I love you” over his heart.

“I love you too,” Sam says, signing it back as he speaks.


End file.
